


meet your storm

by orphan_account



Category: Touhou Project
Genre: Developing Relationship, F/F, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-02
Updated: 2014-08-02
Packaged: 2018-02-11 10:34:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2064798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Or: Muraichi, in six touches.) </p><p>She's a harbor for you-- always present, unchanging and unwavering, always there for you to come back to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	meet your storm

The first is when you just meet her.

When you first set your hands on the Palanquin's wheel you're not sure if it's real or just a hazy golden dream. Quietly steering, your compass finally oriented again, you sail west back towards Japan. You're far out, drifting in the currents of the Pacific Ocean, back to an uncertain fate on land. Byakuren is bustling around on deck, hair billowing behind her as she brings boxes back and forth into the cabins. The ship rocks, creaking and groaning as it goes over a wave, startling her enough to drop a small chest directly in front of her feet. It sways, then slides down the deck of the ship, and Byakuren chases after it, fretting and reciting a sutra under her breath.

Then the pink cloud circling above the lookout tower descends, and before you know it she's on the deck, her hair partially uncovered by the sea wind. You are scared and still coughing up saltwater but she parts the miserable clouds of your ocean and smiles, her clarion voice ringing a hello. Behind her, Unzan, taking form and spiraling around her as if trying to protect her. She reaches her hand out, brushing him away, and softly she says, "That person will not hurt me, Unzan."

It's so strangely genuine, like she believes so deeply in every word she says. You wonder how she came to trust you so easily; she does seem to be the type to trust everyone she meets until it is broken. You almost want to yell, _how do you know, how does anyone know me by just looking at me_? Seeing your doubtful face, she turns to you, and quietly sets her hand on your shoulder. Her thumb runs over your collarbone, unintentionally ( _you think,_ ) and you shiver with the ghost of her touch, in the moment and then long after she's gone. She makes something within you go weak. You set your hands on the polished wooden wheel, for stability.

  


* * *

  


The second time she touches you is on the deck of the ship, while you are sitting and looking up at the endless stars. Your head has been leaning back for so long that your neck starts to hurt, but it's a dull, barely-noticeable pain. You've been talking for hours, about life as a ghost, being bound to the sea that you drowned in, and how Byakuren pulled you out with amazing-- almost _inhuman_ \-- strength, you with ten thousands of tons of seawater weighing on your shoulders. Slowly, with decisive words, you tell her about the nightmares-- sinking ships, over and over, and watching your own body hit the water. You were the only passenger on the ships you sank, and you blame yourself for your own death. Over and over you drown, and the you that holds the ladle suffers and dies just like the you who fell off the ship. You tell her how you wake up gasping for breath, how you are still terrified of that suffocation, death by the sea you are tied to.

Then, Ichirin leans over to you. Your fingers start to tremble, and she slides her hand over yours. Immediately something inside you freezes, paralyzed with anticipation and surprise. You're not sure how to react, but Ichirin looks so sincere, so unbroken in the light of the stars. She brings her other hand up to your face, cups your cheek in her warm palm, and brushes the tear from your cheekbone with her thumb. You hadn't even noticed it fall from your eyes.

"You are not drowning, Murasa," she whispers, so quietly that it resonates in your chest. "You are here. I will never let you drown, _ever_ again."

Her eyes gaze into yours. They reflect the starlight. You stay there, feeling the warmth from her hand melt the ice floes over the sea that is your heart.

You cry.

  


* * *

  


The third, you encounter the moment you confess. You're up at the lookout tower together, climbed a long ladder one after the other, giggling and whispering, Ichirin's hair all over her face and your cap nearly coming off. The wind grows stronger as you go up and up, nearing the cloud-wild sky more with each rung behind you. This tower was one of your favorite parts of the palanquin, and the first thing that surfaced when Byakuren dragged the ship from the deeps. Memories of standing leaning over the rope railing, just centimeters away from plummeting to the deck fifty feet below, the sun and stars circling and lingering in your eyes, come back; the trails of reassurance and peace behind them are like comets.

When you finally step over the edge and onto the wooden platform, Ichirin follows, eyes wide open and searching. You stare at the horizon, your heart leaping-- up here you are so _free_ , so far above the depths of your ocean, and the wind catches in your short hair like the lifting of feathers of a bird. Ichirin feels it too, a breathy " _wow_ " falling from her lips as she perches on the edge.

"I know, right," you manage to murmur back. Standing on the rope protectors, she sways back and forth, and you watch her shoulders rise and fall with her breath. You can't stop looking at her, wherever she is relative to you-- whether she's standing directly in front of you, or far away at the helm of the ship while you steer, you notice how she leans over and looks straight down at the rushing waves, or how she tucks her hair behind her ear every so often with no mind to brush back the locks that fall directly over her eyes. How whenever she turns around you can always see the smile she's wearing before she faces you, like it's a constant afterimage, so bright that it keeps burning into your retinas, the sun you can't look directly at.

Ichirin blinks at you, and then, before you understand anything, her hand covers yours on the rope. You bring your fingers up to lace through hers, wordlessly, and she responds by pressing down on them in a silent confirmation.

Every touch only brings you closer and closer to opening your mouth and telling her everything, but you shy away from the truth every time it comes near. Ichirin peers up at you through her bangs, and you turn your face away, for fear of your blush turning you in. You're enthralled by her, by every inflection of her voice, every blink of her eyes and flutter of her lips, every connected move she makes, and you hope it doesn't show.

Then, something extraordinary happens.

She reaches out, pulls your hand, slowly, towards her chest. You take a step in. Her other hand curls around yours. Your faces are so close, dangerously close. She presses her hands, and yours, to the center of her breastbone. You feel the slow, regular beat of her heart, between your fingers.

"Murasa," she says, decisively, words like footsteps. "I think that. I am in love with you."

With that, the restraints around your heart cut loose. You fall into her arms, tears coming to your eyes as you bury your face in her chest. She leans back against the ropes, brings her arms around you tenderly. In her embrace you open your heart, peel back the layers of calluses around your seabound soul.

"Is that a yes?" she asks, hesitantly.

" _God_ , yes," you answer, your voice choked with joy. "Yes and yes and _yes again._ "

  


* * *

  


The fourth is in your cabin, while you pour yourself a drink. The ship sails on; you can see the horizon extending on from your window. The curtains billow with the rush of wind as Ichirin comes in, closes the door quietly. She sits next to you, on the side of the bed.

You take a sip of the whiskey. It burns going down, polar opposite of your freezing ocean. You tell yourself you'll need this courage, this alcohol-induced openness, but your thoughts are interrupted by a sudden, less bitter warmth at your back.

She leans over you, wrapping her arms around your neck. And then, slowly, like puzzle pieces coming together, you turn your head, she tilts hers, your lips collide.

Time stands still. You take her bottom lip between yours, and her breath comes out heavier as she melts into you, draped over you and pressing closer in.

You stay like this, contentedly, mesmerized. Her mouth tastes of salt and lavender. You feel yourself rising, from the bottom of the ocean back into the light, which filters down from the surface in drifting, serene particles.

When she parts from you, the breathy sigh she gives makes a chill run through your limbs.

"I'm in love with you. Murasa."

All you can think to say in response is, "Ichirin."

And you lean in and take her lips in yours again, pulling her closer by the waist, letting her fold into you.

" _Ichirin_ ," you whisper again, against her mouth. She finds your hands at her hips, layers hers over yours, fingers overlapping gently as she parts her lips and slowly, ever so slowly, lets you in.

  


* * *

  


The fifth is fleeting, a touch alighting on your shoulder, on the deck in the dead of night. You had woken up from a nightmare and had come outside to clear your head in the ocean breeze, and tears are drying on your cheeks as you breathe in the salt and thrumming energy of the sea.

You turn slowly to Ichirin, now standing beside you, her robe whipping in the wind. The hood falls back from her face, and her hair, tousled and undone, spills over her eyes and shoulders. She looks at you, her gaze so intense you almost shiver under it, but her eyes are half-lidded with-- you're not sure what it is; it seems so uncharacteristic of Ichirin, this heavy, endlessly serious feeling. They are wide and dark and deep, filled to the brim with desire.

"Please," she whispers, a near-silent prayer against the night sky. You take her hand, slide your other arm around her waist, and step forward. She backs up, her gaze holding yours, and you move towards her until her shoulders touch the wall.

Something hot and unbearable surges through your bones.

" _Please_ ," she says again, and it's barely audible, a wavering breath of a plea. You cannot deny her now. You never wanted to deny her. And now there is something burning in the pit of your stomach, something unmistakably driven by love and need.

Your knee falls between Ichirin's legs. She presses up against you, and you kiss her hard, rolling her bottom lip between your teeth ever so slightly as she sighs and melts into you. Ichirin's body is quivering, and you recognize it-- the wanting, the _craving_ , something she only shows to you and you alone. You place your hands on the neck of her dress, move it downwards off her shoulders.

"Is this okay?"

"This is okay," she responds, her hands trailing to your hips, resting on your belt. Gently, she unhooks the top button of your shorts, just as you push the robe off her shoulders. She shrugs it off, an almost impish smile spreading across her face.

"Is _this_ okay?" she asks you in turn. You don't even need to answer; you kiss her once, and her knees give out. She tilts her head back and exhales contentedly as she slides down the wall, her hands curled into your shirt. You sink into her as she pulls you down, and soon she's in your lap, legs wrapped around your waist, arms draped around you loosely, small gasps falling from her mouth. "Murasa," she says in a long breath, and you've never loved your name so much as when you taste it on Ichirin's lips.

She leans back, her mouth open in a silent plea, heart pounding under your every touch. You plant your lips on her neck, her shoulders, her collarbone; you cover her body with kisses-- one for every ship you sank.

  


* * *

  


You make love to her right there on the deck of the ship, with only the wild stars as your witness. She is sprawled out, gasping, clinging to your back as your fingers slip into her. She moves slowly, reciprocating every touch with an equal reaction-- a thrust becomes a sigh, your lips on her neck becomes an arch of her back. You hook your fingers upwards inside her, and she strains up against you, her voice a high, joyous glissando.

"Ahh _hh_ ," Ichirin cries out, "mmm, _ahhn_ , Murasa," and the way your name falls from her parted lips twists you up inside. You pull her closer, and she grips at your sides, her head thrown back in abandon. As you move deeper inside of her, you press kisses to her shoulders and ribs, leaving no part of her untouched, and every gradual movement of her hips against your hand and the rhythmic curling of her toes only makes her languid, sustained contact more fluid.

"Murasa... _Murasa_... I'm..."

Ichirin arches, her throat humming with a strangled cry. Then a shout, and she tightens around your hand, her voice finally reaching a crescendo.

"M- _Murasa_!!"

You kiss her as she comes, her moans high and breathy against your lips, tremors like earthquakes ripping through her limbs. She is breathing hard, gripping your shirt, exhausting every last spasm coiled inside of her. Her hips still languidly roll against your hand until she finally falls limp, satisfied and still.

She's collapsed over you, her back heaving with broken breath; you draw up and look over her, taking in every detail. Her hair, disheveled and loose from the confines of her hood, falls over her shoulders like a sheer curtain; the robe she wears is open, shrugged off her back, peeled back to her hips. Her eyes are pressed closed, exhausted, and her lips, all red from kisses, glisten with wetness under the starlight.

Seeing her open and vulnerable like this, you realize, makes you a little bit more in love with her every time you blink. Her skin seems to reflect light, like she refuses to stop shining even when the whole world goes dark. Every _inch_ of her is encrusted with stardust.

You lean over her, press your lips to hers; she enfolds you in her still-trembling arms, her chest rising and falling against yours.

"Murasa," she exhales, her eyes fluttering with satisfaction.

"Ichirin," you reply. "I love you. _Ichirin_."

She climbs up from below you, straddles you ever so slowly. Her intense warmth presses against your skin, and it makes your heart skip. You roll your hips against her, a silent, hesitant prompt, and she braces her hands against your chest.

You don't remember much about the time you drowned; you don't care to remember it, either. All you recall is suffocating, lung-shattering blackness, helplessly sinking like an anvil; the worst way to die. But this, you think as Ichirin's hands run down your hips and gently, gently part your thighs; this love is something you could drown in.

  


* * *

  


The sixth touch is long, as the ship floats towards port. Ichirin holds your hand as you look out into the horizon. Land, land with trees and flowers and sand, dirt you will soon feel under your fingernails, lies flat in front of you. You start to feel uneasy; you start to feel afraid. Ichirin sees it in your eyes, brings her hands to your face and cups your cheeks.

"It'll be just fine, Murasa. I won't let anyone hurt you or Byakuren. We can go anywhere together. We'll be at home. Trust me."

Her eyes look straight into yours. You turn them away, unwilling to show your fear. It's cowardly, but you don't want to worry her.

"I'm not _too_ scared," you lie, unable to look her in the eye.

"You are," she states, and it makes your chest hurt, how she can see your whole heart laid bare and not hate you. The one thing you have learned about her is that, more than anything else, she is unconditional, unwavering in everything she does. She holds her loyalty to her chest, refuses to let it be wrenched away, and that determination, that protective spirit, is what makes her so strong and so dazzling.

"I'm a sailor, Ichirin. My home is the ocean," you finally admit, looking down at your feet. "If I'm not moving, I feel lost."

"I know, but..." She strokes her thumb across your cheekbone. "But, don't ships have an anchor for a reason?"

"Leave my anchor out of this," you pout, and she doubles over with laughter. You take her face in your hands and kiss every giggle off her lips.

"You like your anchor too much. I'm worried you'll ditch me for it," she jokes once you're done, prodding you in the ribs with her elbow. You frown so hard at her your jaw hurts.

"Not true! Not true, and you know it."

"Remember what Byakuren said? Attachments to material things are bad, bad, _bad_." She shakes her head, almost dismissively.

"Does that mean I get to take your clothes off? They're material things too, you know," you tease.

"M-Murasa!"

Her face goes beet red, and it's your turn to crack up. You haven't laughed like this in a while, and it feels somewhat unfamiliar. Unfamiliar, but comfortable, like a house from early childhood you can't consciously remember, but understand and love all the same.

You realize it as landfall approaches-- she's the most home you've ever felt. Just her presence, the touch of her hand, can make any world feel like you've been living there for centuries. She's a harbor for you-- always present, unchanging and unwavering, always there for you to come back to.

“I'm glad I came to love you," you murmur, and she grips your hand as together you watch the horizon approach, your harbor both next to you and straight ahead.

  



End file.
